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thehotelbellamuerte2022 · 2 years

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The Hotel Bella Muerte: The Doll Room

Thump! My eyes shot open. Thump! I quickly shot up in the bed. Thump! Thump! Thump! What the hell was that?!? I got up quickly from the bed and tripped over my own two feet in the process, falling flat on my face into the carpet. I slowly stood, making sure that I hadn’t broken anything in the process, and looked around the room checking to see if anyone had seen my fall, but quickly regained my bearings and realized where I was and how ridiculous a thought that was. I straightened my clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles, and walked toward where I believed the sound had originated. Thump! The sound came once more from the other side of my door. Whatever was making the thumping noise had to be very large based on the increasing loudness of each thump. I paused thinking about whether or not I wanted to open the door after all, but decided I’d rather find out who or what was making the noise rather than stay scared and huddled in a corner of my room. With that, I reached out my hand, albeit a shaky hand, began to unlock and open the door, swinging it open wide.

Clink. Something touched my foot. Shrieking and jumping back, yanking back my leg to shake off whatever had touched my foot, looking down quickly in the process.

“What the hell?” I said quizzically.

All that I had imagined in my head to be on the other side of the door couldn’t compare to what actually was there, lying face down on the floor. It was tiny, doll , just lying there, chilling out and just…. laying there. Not the monster I had imagined but what I would come to wish had been the monster after all. It was a petite, old fashioned doll.

I picked the doll up and began to look at it. It was an old, old doll. Made from what I imagined was porcelain or bisque, with a white sleeping gown on like the one you would have seen in an old photo of a young baby in years past. The face of the doll was childlike, with pink, rosy cheeks and wide blue glass eyes, and short, curly, honey brown hair. It looked innocent enough. I would almost venture to say it was pretty if I was the sort of person who collected dolls, but I wasn’t. I found them utterly creepy and weird.

“Now who left you here?” I asked it as if it would answer me. It didn’t. It just stared back at me unblinkingly. “And where in the world did you come from?” Still no answer. I called out a “Hello” wondering if maybe Mr. Elberton left it for me as a gift, though I didn’t quite believe that he could’ve knocked on the door so hard with those boney arms. Plus, I wouldn’t have described the sound as a knock. I was still half asleep and just wanted to get back to bed so I decided I would pursue the mystery later on the next morning. Till then the doll would be fine sitting in the chair in the sitting portion of the room. I set the doll gently in the chair and walked over to bed. Taking one last look at the doll, I laid back down and resumed my favorite sleeping position. Something was making me uneasy though. I reopened my eyes and looked over to the doll which was still sitting right where I had left it, still staring, still not blinking. That’s when I saw it. It was quick, hardly there, more of a flutter really, but I swear I had seen the doll’s eyes blink.

I shot up once again and being careful not to trip and fall, got up and walked over to the doll. I picked it back up and stared at it as if it was a staring contest. The doll won. I eased her back down but this time I turned her to face the opposite direction to me on the bed, that way she wouldn’t keep giving me the willies. I walked back over and got comfortable on the bed, closed my eyes and started to fall back asleep. Thump! Clink! I jumped up. This time the thumping was in the room with me. I looked to the floor, where the clinking sound came from and found the doll once again laying there on the ground. Surely, surely the thumps hadn’t come from the doll had they?

I got up very begrudgingly, my whole body feeling heavy with sleep, and walked over to the now fallen doll on the floor. I picked her up and gave her the once over, nothing broken, nothing strange at all about her, just the same staring, icy blue eyes. I set her back on the chair and slowly walked backwards to the bed, sat down on the edge, never taking my eyes off the doll. If it was the doll making the noise I was going to catch it this time. I must have stared at the doll for what felt like an eternity. It never blinking or moving, no thumps or clinking, it just sat there. I decided maybe the doll was perhaps a little shy. Maybe I needed to look away from the doll for it to do something. So I turned to the wall facing the opposite direction. After what felt like a second eternity I was about to give up. After all the thought that the doll was the source of the noise was preposterous. It wasn’t like the doll was a living being. THUMP! I jumped and spun around.

“Holy shit!” I screamed.

The doll was no longer on the chair. It wasn’t on the floor either. It had somehow moved and was sitting directly behind me on the bed. In my momentary fear I accidentally knocked it off the bed in one swift kick. The room started to shake and a rumbling sound began to exude from every wall crack and crevice of the room. It felt like what I would imagine a small earthquake to feel like. I sprung forward and grabbed the doll from where she had flown off the bed and onto the ground. I grabbed it quickly and began to apologize profusely to it, sitting on the floor with it, back to the bed, hoping it would calm it. After a few minutes of apologizing and nothing happening I decided to change tactics. Maybe a few compliments wouldn’t hurt anything? I told the doll how beautiful she was (despite the fact that I thought she was ugly as sin) and how much I liked her dress, the color of her eyes etc……… and surprisingly she calmed down and the rumbling and shaking of the room began to slowly die down with each compliment. Soon the rumbling ceased as did the loud pounding of my heart. I continued to hold the doll for a few more minutes. That’s when the thought hit me like a car. I had forgotten a crucial step in the process of closing the hotel for the night. I forgot to turn all the dolls facing the wall of the doll room. But where in the world was the doll room?

I decided to take another more in depth look at the hotel. I had no idea which room was the supposed “doll room” but I would find it before the night ended if I wanted to get any sleep at all. While still holding the doll, I got up off the floor, being careful not to drop the doll as I did so, and started for the door. After going down to the front desk to get the master keys I had left hanging on their hook, I decided I would start with the first room and work my way down the halls till I found the right room. I opened room #1. It was very unlike the rest of the hotel. The room was top to bottom jungle themed. A mural was on the wall depicting a typical jungle scene, a jaguar in the top corner slipping down the front of a tree, eyes on his next meal; a beautiful bird with bright, colorful plumage sitting on the forest floor. Other various birds looked on at the scene, hoping that their fellow feathered friend wouldn’t be somebody else’s lunch. The skill with which the mural had been painted was exceptional. The room itself was filled with a number of different plants of all varieties, making the room even more jungle like. As I stared mesmerized by the scene depicted, I became again all too aware of the little doll I held in my hands when it started to breathe. That’s right you heard me, the little creep began to breathe. I almost didn’t notice it at first, but the longer I stared into the room the more labored the breathing became, as if the doll wanted to make its presence known and remind me of the current task at hand. I closed the door softly and moved on to room #2 at the opposite side of the hallway.

I unlocked the door and opened it wide. Now this room was a little smaller than the last. The theme of this room seemed to be more modern. With a white deco flair, the whole room was….well…..white. White walls, white furniture, white bed….you get it; everything all sterile, unmoving white. The only things that gave color to the room were the various vases and china plates that hung on the walls with their splashes of cornflower blue hues. This room felt empty for the most part, like it was devoid of something that could give it life. I quickly closed the door and moved on since there was nothing worth seeing there. Moving on to room #3, I looked down and noticed that the doll, who had remained breathing and blinking now, began to look to the side at door #3 then back at me, those icy blue eyes staring a hole through me.

I began to move far more quickly now, panic beginning to set in. Was the doll literally coming alive? If I didn’t hurry would the doll begin to talk and walk as well? What were its intentions for me? The answer to these questions I did not know but I wasn’t going to plan on finding out. I swung room #3 open. At first glance this room looked like something you would find in a medieval castle. I couldn’t help but stop and stare in awe at the craftsmanship of the wood work that spanned the walls from floor to ceiling; the deep chestnut tones gave the room warmth as a fireplace lit up the whole room, which I found strange since I hadn’t seen a fireplace anywhere on the roof of the hotel. I wanted to spend time in this voluptuous room, but now the doll began to squirm a little. I said a mental farewell to the room as I left its luxury and comfort and turned quickly to the next room.

The room’s placard read #4. I quickly unlocked the door, rushing now to find the “doll room” and praying that this would be it. I did not want to find out what this doll was capable of if it truly “awakened” from its normal repose. This room, unfortunately, was not the doll room. It looked to be a room you would find in a dirty cottage, or perhaps underground hut, and unlike a hobbit hole this room was a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, and it did not radiate comfort in the least. This particular room was very easy to leave behind and I did so as quickly as possible, turning my nose up at the stench that wafted from it.

Room #5 was different from all the rest. This room looked like my childhood bedroom, or rather the childhood bedroom of a young boy who was deeply into sports of all types and kinds. There were sports posters hung from the wall, dirty clothes strewn about the floor and every hang-able surface.

“Just like I boy.” I muttered as I shook my head disapprovingly.

This room also had a weird funk to it, which I attributed to all the dirty laundry and gym cleats about the place. The place looked quite lived in, in comparison to the white deco room, but once again this room was not the doll room. I shut the door yet again growing more frantic and disappointed that I had not yet found the room. Perhaps I wouldn’t in time and the doll would come alive only to murder me in cold blood, at least that was what my brain was telling me would happen based on all the horror movies I had watched in my lifetime. At any rate I didn’t want to find out; I wanted to find the stupid doll room!

Room #6. This on felt promising for some reason, I mean how many more rooms would I have to go thru before I found the one?

“5 down and only 9 more rooms to go.” I said not liking those odds once I had said them out loud. “Well,” I looked at the doll, “Here’s to hoping.” I added crossing my fingers.

The room’s door opened with a hurried and loud bang as it hit the wall. Straight ahead in the back of the room was a set of long, double, glass doors, opened fully in the moonlight. I could hear the sound of gulls crying, being carried by the gentle breeze that blew through the open doors, fluttering the soft white curtains that surrounded them. This room looked like the upstairs bedroom of a beach house, complete with the widows walk that lay just beyond the doors in the back. It was a peaceful scene, and for a moment it calmed my spirit, reminding me that everything was going be ok. Then the doll started humming a jaunty little tune, reminding me everything was not going to be a-okay if I didn’t hurry up and find the fucking doll room. So I reluctantly left this room behind and moved on to room #7.

Please, please, please the doll room, I thought, almost uttering the words out loud but deciding not too in case the doll took offense a second time. I jiggled the key in the lock. Once I got that open I went to open the door, only to find it wouldn’t budge. I bumped the door a little. Nothing. I tried to lock and unlock the door hoping the third time would be the charm. Still, nothing. That was when the doll uttered a “Mama?”

“Oh hell naw!” I yelled out as I decided to body slam the door.

It took me three tries. Three tries and on the third, I very ungracefully entered the room similarly to how I had witnessed dozens of football players run into the opposing line at my high school football games. Now in order for you to fully get the level of fear I was now facing I have to break away from this narrative to tell a short story from my childhood.

I loved dolls as a child. Like any other little girl, I had my some odd 15 or 16 Barbie dolls and baby dolls growing up. I looked forward to Christmas and birthdays with the hope I could get another to add to my ever growing collection. You might be asking yourself how I went from loving dolls to hating them with fervor. Well I’ll tell you, my stupid Aunt Mable that’s what. She had a collection of every type of doll imaginable. Porcelain dolls, baby dolls, those cringey lifelike ones that people actually trick themselves into believing they’re real, and my all time favorite, ventriloquist dolls.

When I would go over to her house for a visit as a little girl, I loved to ooh and aah at all the pretty dolls. My most favorite was one that wore a floor length lavender purple, ballroom gown and had gorgeous dark brown, curly hair that was tied up into a loose bun, and carried a small parasol that matched her dress over her left shoulder. She would even let me play tea party with a few. I enjoyed my time at her house and was always sad to go and leave them behind. Well one summer I spent 3 days at her house while my parents went on a couples retreat. I remember being so excited. Thinking back on it now it’s almost unfortunate what happened next.

When I got there that summer day, it was hot and sticky outside in the humid air. I was ushered into the cool and refreshing house by my aunt. She told me I would be staying in the back bedroom which was technically the front of the old Victorian house since it faced the street, but my aunt only lived in the back end of the house for some reason. The only reason that I could remember was because the back of the house had air conditioning and the front didn’t. Anyways, I took my little suitcase and hurriedly and excitedly took it to the back of the house because that was where she kept her doll collection. I was thrilled to be in the”back” of the house where the dolls were; I just knew my aunt would let me play with them every day. After I had placed my suitcase in the room I turned around gleefully to see my favorite doll, however, there was a new face sitting next to where she was, higher up on a stack of boxes. Sitting there was a ventriloquist doll. It was one of those Charlie McCarthy dolls that had been super popular in the 1930’s. I had, up till that time never seen a doll quite like it. Sure I had seen other ventriloquist dolls before, my aunt had several in the attic where I was never allowed to go alone, but this one was different somehow. It was dressed to the nines in a fancy, black tux with coattails, a monocle, and a sly, wide toothy grin. To complete the look he even had a black top hat. His glass eyes were open wide and I felt a little uneasy under their leering glare. As I stood there staring at the doll my aunt had, unknown to me, walked up behind me.

“Do you like him?” She asked giving me a scare.

“I….I guess so?” I replied. “What’s his name?”

“His name is Charlie. He’s my newest little friend,” she always called her dolls her little friends as if that somehow made them more real and her less lonely. “I just got him in yesterday along with a few others. He is very special, he can talk and move on his own.” She added.

My eyes grew wide with the thought. If he could talk and move on his own, did that mean he could walk as well? “Aunt Mable,” I ventured, “Can he walk too?”

“Well you never know but it’ll be when you aren’t looking and you least expect it.” She said with a suggestive wink.

Now in my childish mind, the thought of a walking, talking, moving doll about the same height as me was terrifying. I loved to play with them and make up stories with them but if any of them began to move or talk on their own…..let’s just say I wasn’t too keen on the idea, but that wasn’t the only reason I would come to hate that doll.

That night at my aunt’s house, after I finished brushing my teeth, I walked down the hallway to my bedroom. I had spent most of the latter part of the day in the front of the house with my aunt baking cookies and making dinner, then watching my favorite movie at the time, Beauty and the Beast, while eating in the living room on tv dinner trays. Now that it was night and the sun had set, the world was dark and quiet out except for the electric hum of the street lamp that sat directly outside the door. As I turned to head into my room for the night, I instinctively turned to take a look at the dolls just as I had done a hundred times before, except this time it was night out, and I had never seen the dolls in the dark before. You see, there was a window that sat just above the door, a green stained glass window with flecks of red intertwined with the green, and blue edges that made the colors pop. The window was beautiful in the daytime and equally so in the night due to the streetlamp that shone through.

As I turned to look once more at the dolls, I found myself absolutely horrified. The reds, greens and blues from the stained glass window gave an eerie glow to the room. Depending on where the colored light shone, it glinted off the dolls glass eyes, gave their skin in an unnatural, sickly, pallor and bathed the room in a kaleidoscope of hair raising hues. I surveyed the room, my heart pounding and my palms becoming sweaty. My eyes finally rested on the largest doll of all, Charlie. As the light came through, it made his eyes look as if they glowed green, his skin only perpetuated the villainous look, and the boxes he sat atop seemed to only make him seem bigger in the dark. I froze with fear and remembered the words of my aunt, He is very special, he can talk and move on his own, but it’ll be when you aren’t looking and you least expect it. I stared, stopped in my tracks and unmoving. How could I take my eyes off of him if he would just move on his own the moment I stopped?

My aunt came back to tuck me in and glanced from me to Charlie. “He is wonderful isn’t he?” she said almost in awe of him.

Then she quickly ushered me to bed but I never took my eyes off him once till I rounded the corner. She tucked me in and gave me a kiss on the forehead, said her goodnights and see you in the mornings, then turned off the bedside lamp, and left the room, closing the door behind her. As soon as I heard her footsteps fade, I turned the light back on. I sat up in bed never taking my eyes off the door. I thought perhaps if I didn’t turn off the light and kept my eyes on the door, even if Charlie opened the door he would simply drop to the floor the moment I laid eyes on him or be frozen in place as if I had been Medusa from Greek mythology. Either way, I made up my mind not to fall asleep that night.

It only took an hour or two before I began to droop in the bed, my back becoming tired from sitting so alertly. I was so tired but I wasn’t about to let Charlie catch me unawares. I looked at the clock. It read 10:47pm. It was only little over an hour past my bedtime, but I had played hard that day and fear has a way of making you tired after a while. I straightened up in bed determined not to fall asleep. That was when I noticed a new sensation. My bladder was making itself known. I decided to hold off as long as I could before making the trek to the only one of two bathrooms in the whole house. There was one in my aunts room and one on the completely other side of the house. Either way, I was going to have to move past the dolls and Charlie to get to one.

I waited for as long as I could, holding my stomach and trying various sitting positions to relieve the tension that was beginning to band around my lower abdomen. After what seemed like an eternity, I felt like I was about to explode if I didn’t hurry to the bathroom and I, being a self respecting 5 year old, refused to wet the bed. I got out of the bed and walked to the door. I stood there listening for awhile but heard nothing. I decided if I opened the door fast enough, I could prevent Charlie from rushing me or coming into the room, which in my mind was the only safe space in the entire house. I jerked the door open. Charlie still sat, perched upon his box looking more menacing than ever. I skirted down the wall, never breaking eye contact with him. Maybe it was a trick of the light or maybe it was because I was so tired, but I swore I saw him blink. Terror filled my tiny frame. I should have just wet the bed. I sprinted down the hallway on tippy toes, almost playing a game of hopscotch as I went, trying not to wake my aunt stepping on all the creaky boards along the way. I’m sure thinking back on it now I looked quite comical, but at the time I was just trying to survive the night.

As soon as I got to the bathroom I quickly shut the door and turned on the lights. I listened at the door for the sound of footsteps following me, but heard none. I quickly relieved myself, and prayed a silent prayer before heading back down the long hallway. I faced forward, glancing anxiously to and from every possible hiding spot in the house, thinking that Charlie may be hiding in any one of them and praying he wasn’t. I got back to where the dolls were and peeked around the corner. Charlie was still there, leering as he ever did. I skirted back against the length of wall that led to my room and closed the door. Walking backwards to the bed, I never took my eyes off the door. I sat up all night that night. Whenever I thought I was getting too tired to keep my eyes open, I would hear a creak or groan, and I just knew it had to be that horrible doll walking around outside my door. I got up the next morning with bags under my eyes and a crick in my back, and opened my door. There was Charlie, looking like he hadn’t moved even a little but I knew in my child’s heart he had been up all night with me. I spent every night at my aunt’s house like that, propped up in bed staring dumbly at the door, snatching quick naps during the day so I could stay up all night. By the time my parents came to pick me up I imagine I looked pretty rough. My parents said nothing in front of my aunt, though my mother eyed me suspiciously, and I was grateful for that since I didn’t want my aunt to know what had transpired and seem ungrateful for her hospitality. When I got home though, I told my parents of my ordeal, crying my eyes out as I did, falling into a deep, deep slumber after a short while. Needless to say my parents didn’t let me spend the night at my aunt’s house ever again, and to my knowledge my aunt never found out why.

Now, this memory flashed in my mind after I came barreling through the door. Once I had regained my bearings and had a chance to look around, I realized I had found the doll room at last. The name implied that there would be many dolls in this room, hence the name, but I hadn’t hit me till that very moment. From floor to ceiling were rows of shelves hanging on the powder pink walls. As I stepped further into the room I noticed that on these shelves were various names. On some of the shelves dolls still sat atop them, each name belonging to a specific doll. All had a first and last name, and each was unique and dainty. I turned about the room at the middle, glancing from doll to doll. Leecie Belle, Eleanor Rose, Mary May, Clarence Starling, and so forth. All the dolls had names. Then I noticed to my utter shock and horror, that unlike my aunt’s little friends, they all were moving, all breathing, blinking, and some were even talking in hushed tones, just like the doll I now absentmindedly held in my arms.

I stared at them as they stared back, never once moving an inch. That was when I realized something else. There were spaces missing on the shelves. I quickly read the names……Annabelle Lee, Hattie Jo, Lilly Anne, August Dee, Huckleberry Finn, and Augustus Jones. Seven….seven were missing. Where in the sam hill were they? I began to panic even more than I already had, my heart close to bursting with the pounding of my heart. I whirled around when I heard a bubbly, little giggle. Standing there were five little dolls. 3 boys and 2 girls, one pointing at me as the others giggled and two looking curiously out the door. Apparently they had heard me coming and sought to fortify the door lest I interrupt their fun. I wanted this to stop, I wanted to be anywhere but in that room, I wanted so many things at that moment; but we rarely ever get what we want now do we?

I tried to think of what to do but I blanked. I knew for sure that I didn’t want them getting out of the room, so I decided that the first order of business was to close and lock the door, which I did posthaste. The next thing I did was close my eyes and stop to take a breath, easily the first one I had taken since I had gotten in the room good. I didn’t need to be passing out, that wouldn’t do me any good. Then I remembered the rules which I now regarded as my survival guide. The rules clearly stated that I needed to “Make sure you face the dolls in the doll room facing the wall at night.” Why that helped anything or did any good I didn’t care at the time. I just wanted to get those dozens of eyes off me and looking at the wall.

I hoped if I could face the dolls on the shelves towards the wall first I would have more luck so that’s what I did. As soon as I faced the first doll to the wall, it was like turning a switch. The doll stopped all movement. There was no breathing, blinking, staring rumbling, thumping or clinking, the doll simply froze. I, now that I was close to the wall, got a better glimpse at the wallpaper, and something caught my eye. On the pink wall there was written words, left to right, top to bottom, all over the paper. After studying them for a moment, it looked like the language they appeared to be in was latin. I didn’t know what the words meant but things written in latin are seldom ever a good thing, especially in weird, enchanted, logic defying, time hopping hotels like this one. I scrambled now to turn the dolls to the walls, the song “Get Low” playing in my head as I did so. I finished quick enough, but that’s when the empty slots seemed even emptier.

I turned my attention back to the dolls which were now closing in on me. I had no idea which doll was which but I didn’t care. They were going on the shelves one way or another. I swooped up the first girl doll and shoved it in the closest slot, facing the wall, then I grabbed the second. I shoved it in the next available place and began to reach for the next one, a boy this time, when the room began to rumble and shake I dropped the doll I had just grabbed and spun around. The doll I had just placed had spun its head around a complete 180degrees, looking at me disapprovingly. I grabbed that doll back off the shelf and the rumbling stopped immediately and its head returned to normal. I tried the next spot on a different shelf and once again the rumbling began. I grabbed it back off the shelf. Maybe this was the dolls way of saying it was the wrong place? I kept trying slots and on the fifth try the room didn’t rumble when I placed the doll. I kept this up till all but the first doll, the one from outside my door, had been placed. I took another last look at the doll in my hands, then up at the shelf.

“Huh, so you’re Annabelle Lee then.” I said to myself.

I placed her in her spot then stood back to look at the room. Now remember how I said there were 7 empty slots? I was never very good at algebra in school but simple math I was a pro at. There had only been 5 dolls on the floor and 1 in my arms. All the rest had been still in their places. I turned to look at the corner of the room. There was still one empty slot left in the room, on the third shelf from the floor, at eye level, first in the row, was the 7th empty slot. I groaned and hung my head low as I walked over to it, with a deep sigh I looked at the name on the spot. I was prepared to go hunting this missing doll all throughout the hotel if need be, but I would at least know the name of the doll first before I went hunting for it. My eyes grew big, my breath hitched, and my heart stopped. Written on the shelf in front of the last slot was the name….Autumn Winters.

I spun around and ran from the room slamming and locking it behind me. Why was my name there? What did it mean? Were all those other dolls once real people too? A thousand thoughts ran through my head. As soon as the key clicked in the lock and I gave the knob a quick turn, just to make sure it was locked, I ran then down the halls to my own room, slammed the door not caring if I awoke Mr. Elberton, and locked my own door. I looked around the room and grabbed the nearest chair and wedged into the door. Nothing was going to come for me tonight. I practically jumped onto the bed and stared at the door, listening for any and all movement on the other side. I must have stayed there for hours unmoving, hardly blinking. About the time exhaustion set in and my eyelids began to slowly close; I heard a rapping as if someone had been tapping, tapping at my balcony’s door.

#The Hotel Bella Muerte #The Doll Room #Part 3 #creepypasta

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